<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>That's Gay by LeviathanHomeCooking</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679584">That's Gay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanHomeCooking/pseuds/LeviathanHomeCooking'>LeviathanHomeCooking</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Homophobia, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rough Sex, brock rumlow's fragile masculinity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:27:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanHomeCooking/pseuds/LeviathanHomeCooking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“That’s fuckin’ gay.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jack stiffens, and Brock immediately knows he’s stepped on a landmine. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Excuse me?” Jack asks with a lizard-like, sinister tilt of his head.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>That's Gay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You should try the pink ones, they’re really good.” Jack says, pointing to the gaudy, neon pink-frosted donuts that look like a unicorn crapped them out. </p><p>Brock sneers, “That’s fuckin’ gay.”</p><p>Jack stiffens, and Brock immediately knows he’s stepped on a landmine. </p><p>“Excuse me?” Jack asks with a lizard-like, sinister tilt of his head.</p><p>
  <b>Oh no. </b>
</p><p>“N-nothing, Rollins, just forget about it.” Brock mutters. </p><p>“No.” Jack wags his finger at him, “I’m pretty sure you said it was gay.” He walks around the table, all swagger and confidence of a man fully aware of how tall and intimidating he is.</p><p>But Brock isn’t afraid of Jack, not at all. So when Jack comes to stand close, imposing, wide chest and dense muscle merely millimetres away, it’s definitely not<em> fear </em> making Brock’s heart thump. All of a sudden the coffee in his hand is looking very interesting, far more interesting than the leer starting to creep up on his friend's face.</p><p>“You’re right. Sorry, Rum. Wouldn’t want anyone thinkin’ you’re a <em> fag </em>now would we?” Jack practically spits the word out, rekindling the ghosts of old arguments, insecurities, shame.</p><p>Brock’s face flushes but he still manages to hiss, “Lower your voice.” Although the breakroom is empty at the moment, there are ears everywhere.</p><p>A deep chuckle erupts from Jack’s chest. “What? I’m just trying to make sure everyone knows that Commander Brock Rumlow <em> definitely </em> does not like penis.” He announces to the empty room.</p><p>“Oh my god—”</p><p>“Nope. Just vag for him, thanks.”</p><p>“I’m walking away now.” Brock says, rushing to get out of the breakroom and as far away from the man as possible before it inevitably escalates. </p><p>“Have an extremely heterosexual day!” Jack calls to him when he’s halfway down the corridor, drawing curious looks from passing S.H.I.E.L.D. employees.</p><p>Just ignore him, don’t enable it, don’t give him the satisfaction. That’s what Brock tells himself whenever Jack finds a new fixation to prod at.</p><p>But in extremely Jack-like fashion, Jack doesn’t let things go so easily. Once he gets his hooks in, there’s no shaking him off. The man loves to watch people squirm.</p><p>Later that same day, Brock asks Jack to help strap his gear on. Said man looks at him with mock skepticism. “Hmm, I dunno, a guy touching another guy all over? S’a little faggy, isn’t it?” The man gives a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.</p><p>“Ha-fucking-Ha. Get over here before I demote you.” Brock growls.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next day, they swing by the bathroom before wheels-up, but Jack arm-bars him, stopping him outside the bathroom. “Woah, woah. Two dudes going into the bathroom together, lil’ suspicious ain’t it?” Jack says with a shit-eating grin. Brock knees him in the kidney for that one.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A week later, they’re carpooling when Jack climbs into the passenger seat and hands Brock his desperately needed morning coffee. But when Brock takes a sip, he cringes. </p><p>“The fuck is this?”</p><p>“Black coffee.” </p><p>“What happened to my latte?”</p><p>“Lattes are for queers and teenage girls, Rum. Big strong man like you drinks black coffee.” </p><p>“You’re such a fucking asshole.” Brock grumbles. It’s way too early to be dealing with Jack’s bullshit, but he’s not about to waste the caffeine, so he gulps it down anyways even if it tastes like wood.</p><p>“Assholes are pretty gay. When you, uh...fuck them?” Jack slurs through a mouthful of bagel. The man is a goddamn mess in the mornings.</p><p>“That one was terrible.” Brock says wryly. </p><p>“You’re right. I need more coffee. I’ll just take a sip from yours—or would that be <em> gay</em>?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Then, a few days after that they’re <strike>on a date</strike> <em>hanging out</em>, eating takeout, and watching Shark Tank. Brock is feeling a little horny, a little buzzed, a little bold. And Jack is lounging beside him, all long limbs stretched out and taking up half the couch with his massive size.</p><p>Suavely, Brock reaches over, palms Jack’s thigh. It’s enough to get the man’s attention. Jack doesn’t acknowledge him, but his mouth quirks up in a smirk that he hides by sipping his beer. Brock gets bolder, giving his thigh a squeeze, just to tease. Jack side-eyes him, a twinkle of mischief in them. Brock’s hand slides higher, gropes Jack’s dick through his jeans. </p><p>Jack strikes out and captures his wrist. “<em>What do you think you’re doing?</em>” He demands. He pins Brock with a sharp, accusatory look. As if he’s offended Brock touched him like that, like they haven’t been regularly getting down and dirty with each other for years.</p><p>Brock sputters. “T-the fuck you think I’m doing?” </p><p>Jack arches a stern eyebrow. </p><p>“Tryin’ to touch your dick.” Brock spits.</p><p>There’s a pause. And then Jack’s mouth splits into a sly grin. “Hmmm, I dunno, Rum, touching another man’s dick is...<em>kinda gay</em>.” </p><p>Brock squawks, “Are you seriously still on about that?”</p><p>“I’m just lookin’ out for ya, <em>buddy</em>. <b><em>Pal</em></b>. <em>Bro</em>—”</p><p>Brock knocks over the coffee table and all the food and drinks on it trying to gouge out Jack’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It goes on like that for quite a while. Everyday. Multiple times a day, Jack needles him.</p><p>Until Brock tries needling back. </p><p>Jack is staying over one night, so they climb into bed together.</p><p>“Joining me?” Brock asks a little too smugly, “Sleeping in the same bed with another guy isn’t too <em> gay </em> for you?”</p><p>“Don’t be homophobic, Brock.” Jack says. He rolls onto his side, leaving Brock to gape at his back in fury.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Finally, in a deep, dark desperate moment of weakness Brock pleads for him to stop.</p><p>Jack hums thoughtfully, dramatically. Leans back in his chair and poses himself like a magnanimous king contemplating mercy over his subject. It takes everything in Brock not to pop a boner right there. Then he'd really never hear the end of it.</p><p>“Maybe if you get on your knees and beg me real nice, I’ll stop.” Jack says.</p><p>“<b>Fine.</b>” Brock seethes out. He kneels on the floor despite the protest of his knees, and his dignity. Once he’s down there, Jack crosses his arms and tuts.</p><p>“Getting on your knees for a dude? Now that’s just gay.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>With two handfuls of Brock’s hips, Jack yanks him down on his cock, smacking their hips together with harsh, wet slaps. Brock’s got a death grip on the iron bars of the headboard, groaning in rhythm.</p><p>“Oh fuck, fuck, <em> Jesus </em>—Jack, fuckkk, you’re gonna make me cum.”</p><p>Jack slams balls deep into Brock and stills. “Making a guy cum? I don’t know that’s pretty gay…” He grunts.</p><p>“Oh my <b> <em>fucking god</em></b>,” Brock starts in exasperation, “Your dick is literally <em> inside me </em> you fucking queer.” He snarls.</p><p>“It’s not gay to top.” Jack mocks. </p><p>“Oh you insufferable son of a bitch…!” Brock lunges at him but Jack just pins him down by his wrists, laughing in his face like the bastard he is. His cock grinds in deeper with the motion, making Brock’s muscles turn to jelly. “O-ooh...shit…” </p><p>Jack rocks his hips slow and deep, pressed up tight to Brock’s ass. He noses at Brock cheek and croons sweetly, “Wanna cum on my cock, baby? Better tell me how much you want it.” </p><p>“Fuck, Jack...” Brock’s eyes flutter and his legs constrict around Jack’s middle.</p><p>Jack presses hard on his wrists, continues his slow torturous grind. “C’mon, tell me you love my dick.” He goads, grinning with delight. </p><p>“Fuck you.” Brock slurs.</p><p>Jack slides his cock out tortuously slow, making Brock shake when he sinks it back in just as leisurely, all full and tight and hot. Really lets Brock savor every inch of his girth, how Jack stretches him so wide and how the head teases his prostate on every stroke.</p><p>“You love taking my dick, don’t you?” Jack pants.</p><p>“Yeah…” Brock sighs. His face is awash with bliss, mouth slack and drooling from pleasure. Jack thrusts harder and faster to get Brock keening.</p><p>“Yeah, you love being stuffed full and used. Anywhere. On the floor, against the wall, in the car, <em> bent over the fucking sink in a Chili’s bathroom </em>. Can’t get enough of my cock in you. In your ass. In your mouth. Down your throat. Till you’re covered in fucking jizz. Never enough dick to satisfy you.”</p><p>One of Jack’s hands wrap around Brock’s throat, not enough to choke but enough to make Brock hazy and pliant from the threat alone.</p><p>“Big tough guy. Pretendin’ you’re not just as much of a sweet little faggot who wants a strong daddy to come n’ put you on your belly.”</p><p>“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Jack. Yer fuckin’ <em> mouth</em>.” Brock gasps.</p><p>“Yeah, you like my mouth too, don’t you?” Jack purrs.</p><p>“Yes, yes, fuck!” Brock is chanting deliriously. </p><p>It’s true. All of it. </p><p>Brock likes his mouth. He likes how dominant and demanding Jack’s kisses are, the skill of his tongue teasing Brock’s, the way his teeth like to gnaw and tug at every available inch of skin. Brock likes Jack’s voice, how deep it is and all the nasty shit he likes to spew when they’re railing each other. He likes everything from Jack’s musk, to his pert ass, to his wide back, to that arrogant mug of his, and to—yes—even his cock.</p><p>Jack groans hot and loud when Brock’s insides pulse around him. “Gonna cum,” he growls, “Want me cream inside you? Get you all messy inside with my spunk?”</p><p>“Fuck, <em> yes</em>.” </p><p>Jack moans, “That’s my precious lil’ fag, c’mon, cum on my dick.”</p><p>Jack’s hips stutter with the mounting tension, muttering sleazy gibberish into Brock’s skin until he’s spilling into Brock, who follows barely seconds later with pearly ropes of seed spurting across his sweaty torso.</p><p>Jack finally releases Brock’s now bruised wrist and throat, and they roll apart. For a minute Jack just lies there on his back, buzzing with satisfaction. Then, Brock rolls over. It’s easy for Jack to lift his arm and let Brock slot into place, nuzzling into the crook of Jack’s shoulder.</p><p>“Cuddling? That’s kind of gay, isn’t it?” Jack muses with a smile.</p><p>Brock gives him a rough squeeze, and mumbles into his shoulder, “Who gives a fuck?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Check out my<a href="https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com"> Tumblr (LeviathanHomeCooking) </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>